Her Last Days
by Eristarisis
Summary: She devoted her life to Neverwinter. Betrayal and pain were her rewards. She devoted the ending of her life to herself at the hands of a dealer of death."
1. Chapter 1 - A War of Words

**Chapter 1: War of Words.**

He would have normally stood there, tall and proud, with the matching but differently enchanted blades drawn. The fire enchantment upon one mirrored his temper, while the acidic enchantment upon the other mimicking the very corrosive nature of his words. The raven hair and eyes of his face failed to hide the verbal fury or the temper that he employed against the only target within the opulently decorated chamber.

The elite bodyguards of Lord Nasher, the Neverwinter Nine, stood at perfect attention around the room. One in each of the four corners of the room, with two flanking the splendid arched and vaulted door that lead in to this room. The remaining three members of the Nine were amongst those who gave their lives in the valiant defense and counterattack against the Luskans and Uthgradt invaders. Normally, their postures would have been no less than perfect, but today their fingers twitched constantly, ready to draw the finely honed steel blades at a moments notice should the fury of the verbal maelstrom turn to physical violence.

The Commander of the Nine stood at the heart of the maelstrom, his own voice, roaring with unrepressed rage and anger, his own salt and pepper hair shaking to emphasize his point, of outright refusal. The younger raven-haired man refusing to back down before the storm that rained upon him by Lord Nasher, though he stood his ground with both fists clenched, determined to maintain a measure of control even as he roared back.

Any other man would have been thrown in to the dungeons of the castle. It was also a lie that kept the six chosen bodyguards of the Lord of Neverwinter from engaging the Death Dealer in combat. Even six on one their chances of victory were slim indeed. The raven haired man screaming at Lord Nasher was known to rout armies single handedly.

Darius Angelus the "Death Dealer" was the most dangerous man in Neverwinter. The man had done more good for the city since the Wailing Death. The man who had single handedly stalled the Luskan advance by stopping the War Golems that had decimated Neverwinter's Army and the City Guard. The same man had seen to the destruction of the catapults that had rained fire and damnation upon the city, and brought to end the Cult and delivered death and eternal damnation to Maugrim Korotheir.

The same man who had fought the Lady Aribeth de Tylmarande and brought her to her knees in defeat. The same man who had convinced that fallen lady, the once proud paladin of Tyr, the traitor and Dark Champion and Commander of the Luskanite Forces to surrender herself, and her knowledge to the forces of the Lords Alliance, allowing them to beat back and drive the Luskans from the city that she had once so proudly served.

Lord Nasher had passed his judgment, and had shown no mercy, sentencing her to death at the Hangman's noose, at dusk in two days. Darius had heard of the judgment and had spared no time in demanding a meeting with Lord Nasher, in the hopes of somehow changing the man's decision. A "lively discussion," would have been a poor description of the war of raised voices and harsh words hurled back and forth by both men.

Darius knew that hope aside, he had little chance of changing Nasher's mind. And Darius knew that Nasher knew this. And Darius knew that his temper was getting the better of him. "She surrendered herself to you, at my persuasion! She has shown that she knows the error of her ways! Show some mercy!" he shouted yet again, "Do you think that she does not feel for what she has done? Spare her and show that you do understand the nature of kindness!"

"She betrayed this city that she had sworn to serve and protect," retorted Lord Nasher shaking his head, "I cannot show her any leniency. The penalty of High Treason is Death. Darius, she has been, she still is the daughter that I never had, but I cannot change the Law. She led Luskan Forces against her own people! She slaughtered them upon the field of battle, even as they ran for their very lives! She once served this city, but turned her back upon it. High Treason is the crime and her betrayal…"

"Her Betrayal? You dare accuse her of Betrayal? What do you call your own actions? The "people" of Neverwinter were nothing more than a bloodthirsty mob! They demanded blood, as if the blood of Desther was not enough! You gave them Fennthick Moss! You surrendered Aribeth's beloved to the judgment of the mob!"

"His own actions condemned him," cut in Lord Nasher, "I had no choice…"

"No choice? You are the Lord of Neverwinter! Think of this, "Lord" Nasher, if Aribeth had been the one to leap through that Portal from your very own Throne Room, from this very room, when the cure was stolen, your first thought would have been of sending aid to assist her against Desther. You would have probably sent me, being the closest at hand," he paused from breath at this point, taking only a moment to gather his strength to hammer his point home, "Her betrayal is not in question. It happened. But examine the causes of her betrayal with open eyes and an honest heart and you will find yourself as the root cause, oath breaker!"

At these words, Nasher's hand went to the blade that he wore at his own hip, "You dare question my honor? You dare call me a traitor within my own house? My city…"

The movement was not lost upon Darius, as his feet shifted slightly, letting his muscles relax as his fingers flexed. Stealing a rapid glance around the room he turned his attention back to Nasher, "I don't dare question your honor. I don't dare call you a traitor," snarled Darius, "I call you traitor! I call you backstabber! I call you the lowest of the low! I call you a man without honor! I call you oath breaker! Face you own actions Lord of Neverwinter! You betrayed Fenthwick Moss when you let the mob of your citizens hang him! You betrayed her and abandoned her without explanation or time to mourn a loss that you inflicted! That loss destroyed her ability to love and care for others! You betrayed the two who held you in the highest esteem, who gave love, limb and life in your service, to your city!"

"I sent her from this city, giving her the sacred duty, to hunt down the very cult that took Fenthwick from her! She was a true Paladin of Tyr and should have understood that I was giving her opportunity to take divine vengeance!"

Darius plunged on heedless of his own safety, "You do at least know how she became a Paladin of Tyr? Or did you not even bother to find that out?" Darius knew. She'd told him on the long nights of the hunt and pursuit before her betrayal. Lord Nasher could only stand for a moment, but was not given enough to time to reply, "You don't even know the life of the woman who has served you for so many years!" The words of Darius cut through, striking deep in to the core of the man who had built the entire city.

Lord Nasher was bound by the very laws that he swore to serve, and administer. Justice must be done, and that justice meant the death of Lady Aribeth. He could not escape this fact. However, her surrender had given the defenders valuable information that had allowed Captain Trancer along with the Neverwinter Nine and every man able to wield a sword to drive the Luskanites from his city. Nevertheless, it was not enough to redeem the hundreds of deaths that rested upon her head, whose blood coated her hands, "Be that as it may," breathed Lord Nasher, "My decision is unchanged. Aribeth De Tylmarande, shall die for the crime of high treason against the city and people of Neverwinter."

Darius Angelus, paused for a moment, gathering strength, to restrain and cage the beast that reigned within. He fought and found his control slipping as it broke through whatever barriers and walls he had put in place, mentally steeling himself for this long and drawn out affair, that he knew in his heart had known he would lose before beginning, "So years of loyal service mean nothing in the final count? Those who do care for her are not even allowed to say good-bye or have a one moment of happiness with her? I had not known, that the Lord of Neverwinter, in addition to all else, was also a truly heartless barbarian who belongs outside the walls of his civilized stronghold."

The straw that broke the proverbial camel's back, as Nasher himself drew his sword, the blade rising from its scarab with a sharp hiss. He did not have the chance to raise the blade before a voice as cold as the smoke of dry ice cut through the air of the chamber, "Leave that blade, Nasher, this is the only warning that I will give." The gathered strength in the room drew their blades, "I could kill you all, and take what I want, but, I have no desire to kill here. We have all seen enough bloodshed." A part of him however…

Nasher hesitated for a moment, before letting the tip of his sword touch the floor, he would not add to the damage done, by getting himself killed or worse, by being called to answer for the murder of the Hero of Neverwinter. Nasher knew that he had no choice, that by the laws of the City and by the Code of Honor that governed all members of the Lords Alliance: Aribeth would pay the price for her crimes.

However, there was still one thing that he could do, he hoped, that would be enough to placate the man before him. Darius was dangerous and the Death Dealer had no qualms about shedding anyone's blood, for any reason. Aribeth was a good enough reason for the Savior of Neverwinter.

Lord Nasher had much blood upon his hands, both that of the guilty and of the innocent, some of it fresh, and some of it old. It was blood nonetheless, and he wished that there was another path that he could follow. He knew that there was one thing that he could offer, "Darius," Nasher paused, as the glare from Darius's would have turned blood to ice, "There is one thing that I can offer: I can grant her the remaining days of her life in relative freedom, in protective custody. Then she must face judgment, or anyone who protected her will share her fate."

Darius stared unblinking, the hard obsidian colored eyes tearing through Nasher, as Nasher noted where once was passion to serve and a measure of loyalty, now only stood anger and hatred akin to that the Luskans had for Neverwinter. He shuddered as he realized that a dangerous enemy stood before him. While the plague of the Wailing Death was over and the invading armies shattered, this man could probably finish the job singlehandedly.

"Two days?" growled Darius even as he considered it for a moment, considering choices and options. He had realized that getting a concession from Lord Nasher would prove to be almost impossible. Darius knew better than to turn down the offer, "Two days from the rising of the next sun. But, you release her in to my custody and my custody _alone_ – tonight."

Lord Nasher considered this condition even as he considered the man before him. Darius was a man who did what was right, because it was right, but only when it suited him. Darius could have easily joined Aribeth when she led the forces of Luskan, and that he knew, would have been the doom of his city, "So be it. Two days then Lady Aribeth must be returned to face her judgment."

Darius nodded his understanding, and waited as a scribe wrote out and then handed the letter to Lord Nasher who signed and affixed his seal to the letter. It changed hands, and Darius nodded his acceptance of it. Without another word, Darius turned and left, throwing open the double doors and not bothering to shut them as he headed in to the depths of the Castle, towards where only the most dangerous of prisoners would be kept: Aribeth de Tylmarande.

Within her cell, Aribeth stared at the smooth and naturally formed walls of her prison cell. The only thing added to ensure its security had been a solid oak door, and several guards upon the other side of the door. The elven paladin was however, able to hear the pair of raised voices that had been shouting back and forth for hours.

She sighed silently, knowing that Darius would not let up and that they could go on for hours yet. Aribeth was somehow, unable to care about her fate. She had accepted the almost certain likelihood of death when she abandoned the war against Neverwinter and surrendered herself to Lord Nasher and the Neverwinter Nine.

She noted the sudden silence before her keen hearing detected the heavy foot falls, that she had learned to recognize long ago. The guards outside her cell challenged somebody, a scroll of paper being thrown at someone. In moments her cell was thrown open and Darius strode in, his normally unreadable face contorted in to a mask of absolute fury. "You tried to speak to Nasher?" Aribeth asked rhetorically.

She saw the fighter gave a slight nod, as they both knew how successful his "conversation" with Nasher had been, "He will not reconsider his decision." Darius snapped, the fury in his face faded and was replaced by a mask of gentleness, of sorrow, "I, I'm sorry. I did not mean to…"

Aribeth quickly cut off the warrior before he was able to continue, "Do not regret Darius. There is nothing that can change the past. I foresaw my fate, the moment I abandoned Maugrim and Morag. However I choose this course, and I will walk in to its end."

"You knew? Yet you choose this?" Darius eyes widened slightly in shock, "You know what… and you still choose to submit to the judgment of that deluded old fool?"

"It was wrong, Darius." Aribeth answered, " _I_ was wrong. I choose to walk the wrong path, and I committed unspeakable acts of horror and atrocity. I couldn't look myself in the mirror and accept what I had done."

"Why come here though?" Darius pleaded startling Aribeth slightly, "Why not run? Leave? Make a fresh start, a new life in a different part of Faerun? You did not have to come back. You could have started over and forgotten everything that happened here."

"I would not be able to live with myself." The elf answered truthfully, trying unsuccessfully to hide her emotions, even as her eyes revealed her inner fear, "I would not be able to live with myself, knowing that my thirst for vengeance against one man had caused the death of thousands and that many more are left homeless or widowed. I will not run away. I accept my fate and will walk the path to its very end."

Aribeth watched as the young man who stood before her did not know what to do or say. She could not blame him as she had been in the same position as Darius only a few months ago. She doubted however, that Darius felt anything other than a strong, close friendship. He knew her better than anyone else alive, "How long?" Aribeth asked straightforwardly.

"Two days," Darius replied somberly, his eyes were downcast as he examined the dirt of the dungeon floor. "We have two days from sunrise tomorrow."

"We…?" Aribeth questioned, not completely understanding.

Darius looked up as he answered and met the wood elf's bright blue gaze. "Nasher has granted me the authority to release you from your cell as long as you stay within the confines of the city."

Aribeth nodded at least she would have some free time of which to do as she pleased before she surrendered herself to her fate. She examined the youthful young man before her. She was an equivalent age by elven standards, causing a small smile to creep across her delicate features, as she noted that Darius was staring at her, but staring at something that she could not see, "Well then?" She asked promptly, snapping the fighter out of his reverie, "Let me out of this cell. I want to feel the touch of the sun again."

For the first time that night and many days before, a flicker of a smile passed over Darius's features and he nodded gently as he stepped to the side, holding the door open for her, "Let's get going."

Darius locked gazes with Aribeth and smiled as she walked past him. With her back to him, she did not see him shake his head, or his hear his thoughts. Aribeth stepped out her cell and stretched slightly, the cramp confines had caused her muscles to cramp and it was a rather unpleasant experience. Finishing the quick routine, Aribeth tapped Darius, "Ready when you are."

Both were silent as Darius led her through the now vacant streets of Neverwinter towards some unknown destination. As they passed through the broken and desolate streets of the city that she had once served with pride and honor, Aribeth unconsciously drew closer to Darius's side, her hands wrapping around his forearm. More than once, Aribeth had seen the guards of the castle glaring at her, their desire to kill her obvious in their eyes as they still saw her as the commander of the dark army of Luskanites and Uthgardt that had laid siege to the city she now walked through. And they probably would have tried, had it not been for her protector and escort.

The pair wandered through the city, and Aribeth noticed the changes all around as the scent of unwashed bodies faded away, and the quality of the houses around them degraded rapidly before beginning to increase in quality. Aribeth knew of only one district in the entire city that had such flamboyant and extravagant housing: Blacklake District.

Aribeth hid a smile and the coughed, to hide a chuckle, as she wondered what the guards and people of Blacklake would make of such a man wandering through their district, in his well worm armor and pair of blades, one riding upon his hip, the other across his back. The cloak with its hood up hid his face, just as the cloak she wore did. The wealthy merchants and highborn nobles would definitely suffer indigestion at seeing the two of the wandering through their district. Aribeth pinched her lips together as she imagined the expressions on the faces of all the wealthy "upper class." The images however were downright hilarious to Aribeth as she was unable to stifle the gentle laughter that came from her.

Darius jumped slightly, turning his head to the side at the unexpected noise as he regarded the female elf, staring in to her sapphire eyes, "What?"

"We are heading towards Blacklake are we not?" the fallen paladin asked.

"Yes, we are," Darius confirmed, "Why?"

Aribeth managed to answer giggling all the while, "It's just the thought of you in Blacklake is rather comical."

The fighter turned, bringing them both to a halt as he assumed an indignant pose and pouted like a child, "And what makes my appearance unsuitable for me to show my face in Blacklake?"

Aribeth laughed harder before she was able to calm herself enough to reply, "Darius, you profession alone would be enough for most nobles to turn green before they turn up their noses at you, and that's before they have even seen you armed with a pair of blades in battle scared armor. Plus you despise the so called "nobility" that inhabits this district as much as they had you."

"I suppose that my appearance is less than noble, but nothing I own cost a dragon's horde to buy," replied Darius, "and the only reason I have accommodation in this overpriced district is because of an old washer woman, Milly, who was one of the last victims to be claimed by the Wailing Death. "

"And the nobles of the Black Lake have never been the same since." Aribeth snidely remarked, her grin widening, "and if those twin blades of yours did not cost a dragon's horde to buy…"

"My swords did not cost anything." replied Darius, a little sharp, "The flame enchanted blade, I call "Fire Star" was actually the blade that my father used before," he paused for a moment, before continuing, "Before he was killed."

Aribeth picked up on the sharpness of his tone, and smoothly deflected the subject, "and who did the green, poison enchanted blade belong too?"

"…" Darius was uncertain if he could tell her the truth, but decided that she deserved to know some of the truth about him, "The green blade, belonged to somebody I knew, long ago, before I answered Neverwinter's call."

Aribeth stood back and listened as Darius leaned, back first against a wall, staring in to the distance, at the sun that was slowly disappearing, "She was one of the most important people in my life, who meant everything to me…" To Darius, everything else became invisible as he saw the entire scene playing out before his eyes, as it had done numerous times in his sleep….

She stood back, giving him a moment to himself, because she knew that he would regret telling her anything because it revealed that he was human and had a heart capable of emotions. She knew that he was as human as the next person was, just that he often times did not know how to express those feelings. Without waiting for him, she pressed on towards Blacklake.

The pair drew closer to the gates that separated the rich quarters of the nobles from the rest of the city. With their privately hired and managed Black Lake Guard that guarded the lavish solid wrought-iron gate. The cost clothing of even the lowest ranking guards here would have kept those who called the Beggar's Nest home, fed for at least half a year. Darius hated these so-called "guards," and he remembered their cowardice during the invasion, when they had done little to help in the defense of the city, most of them simply cowering in shelter with the women and children. Cowardice – he hated cowards with a passion.

The female elf remembered during the Wailing Death, how these so-called "nobles" had locked themselves within their district, hoarding food and supplies to let the rest of the city starve during the quarantine. She remembered how these cowards, who accounted for nearly a fourth of the city's military power, had refused to join the fight, their cowardice leaving the city under-defended against the combined forces of Luskan and the Uthgardt Tribes.

"Drop your hoods and be counted," a voice ordered from the parapet a top the gate, who glared down, with the sun at his back, "Or I shall take great pleasure in having you run through!"

Darius eyed the guards with a very unpleasant look. Aribeth could tell that their cowardice in the defense of Neverwinter had not gone unnoticed. Darius took a deep breath to calm himself, his hands remaining at his side, but clenched tight, "I am a simple traveler returning home." Darius replied the contempt in his voice staggered Aribeth. Darius was rough around the edges, with a mouth that could shock anybody, except perhaps a blood-sailor, but the way he spat the word left no doubt what he really meant – I am somebody who fought, and bled to defend this city, and want to return to my home you coward.

The gloom and shadows of the night must have obviously been affecting the guard's eyesight and ability to recognize people in the poor light, but it was also possible that these "guards" were mere thugs, and stupid. Otherwise, they would not have been so bold with their next remark, "Simple travelers are not wanted or welcome in Black Lake!" the guards sneered, "You could not afford a pair of boots here! Turn around and wander towards the Beggar's Nest, where you'll find something more appropriate for the likes of you."

Aribeth breathed in silently, and cursed the guard's stupidity. To be impolite to Darius was one thing, but to openly insult him, was very unwise. The Elf remembered how Darius had reacted when another student at the academy had belittled the fighter's skills. Darius had almost slain the youth with three strikes from the flame enchanted bastard sword Darius called "Fire Star." The youth had needed a visit from the priests and clerics of Tyr to heal the wounds and burns he had suffered – that fight had lasted a few seconds. If this came to a fight, it would last slightly longer than that one.

Aribeth was pulled out of her musings as Darius strode forwards and threw his hood back with his anger barely concealed, "I am not a noble but my house _is_ in the Black Lake area so either you open this gate, or I run you through and open the gate myself!"

It was obvious the guards recognized the hero of Neverwinter by the blood that drained from their faces as fear overcame their expressions, "I'm sorry milord, I…I could not make you out in the gloom."

Darius's gaze did not relent for a second as he stared down the guard who fumbled to open the gate, causing the guards to become even more uncomfortable, "As you please, but I recommend that you mind your manners. In future, I might not be so, well tempered."

"Yes milord." The guard said with an enthusiastic nod, relieved that he had been spared a beating, and more likely death, "If I may ask milord, who is your companion?"

Darius simply glared at the guard who hurriedly opened the gate and let the pass, bowing his head in submission before barking orders at the other guards who had remained silent throughout their exchange. The gate opened silently on its well oiled hinges. Moments later, the pair wandered the nighttime streets of the Black Lake District.

"Did you have to terrify the guard?" Aribeth asked even as she drew the hood over head determined to hide her identity from everyone around her. She did not want her identity known as it would only cause trouble

Darius would have protested had he not noticed the humor that her voice carried, "Absolutely necessary. That is the sort of scum that should be in the Peninsula Prison."

"Be that as it may, he nearly died of shock when you lowered the hood upon your cloak," she replied with a slight the beginnings of a smile upon her face.

"I was kind of hoping he would, but seeing him squirm and feel like the dozens that he has bullied in the past, was good enough for me, " replied a none too serious Darius – glad that the topic of conversation had shifted away from himself.

"Agreed," Aribeth answered with a giggle even as she considered how people abused the authority granted to them by the government. She remembered how all too often she had been the one to heal the consequences of these abuses.

Darius looked around and checked their surroundings as the pair carried on through the streets until they came upon what could be considered the "heart" of the district, close to the Boards Laid Bare tavern. Darius had won the gauntlet fighting challenge and also owned the District's only tavern. He bypassed it, in favor of the small neat house that had been left to him by the spinster washer woman, Milly – who Darius had been unable to save from the Wailing Death. It was small and perhaps a little cramped for two people being the small single storey house that was tucked away in to a corner of the district.

"We're here." Aribeth heard Darius announce as he turned towards the door. He pulled the key from a pocket and fitted it in to the lock. With a sharp tug upon the doorknob, the ancient wooden door swung open to reveal a dark room, lit by the dull light of a single oil lamp that threw shadows along the wall, "Ladies first," he said as Aribeth graciously accepted the invitation and stepped through closely followed by Darius.


	2. Chapter 2 - A Request

**Chapter 2 A Request.**

The house was small, but very clean, and fairly tidy. The only mess was causing by the broken windows, destroyed during the battle for the city. Darius had considered taking her to the Board's Laid Bare – the district's only tavern that he also owned, but felt that the last thing the fallen paladin would want is to be surrounded by a crowd.

The pair was quiet as Darius gave the brief tour of the three room house that lasted only a minute, "Bedroom is back there, through that door, the kitchen and living room, you're standing in them and the last room leads out back to the well and the bathroom."

Aribeth was considering the important question of where she would sleep as there was only one bedroom, and more importantly, only one bed, and the hour was growing late. But Darius was not too concerned about the hour as he relit the fireplace and several small lamps that he placed around the room, allowing the small lights to effectively light up the room. Darius paused and turned to face Aribeth, "I don't have much in the way of food or drink I'm afraid – not had the time to do any real shopping."

However, she had not been really paying any attention to anything that had happened since they entered, as she finally blurted, "I'm sorry."

Darius paused, his train of thought completely derailed as he stared at her, "For what?"

"For…" she broke off and looked away, out through the bars of the broken window, the iron bars she noted, built like prison bars, "For everything, for what I've…" she stalked towards the window, resting her hands upon the window sill, as she rested her head upon her hands crossed forearms, sinking to her knees, as she hung her head as she lost her focus, already being overwhelmed by what she had done, and how many she had hurt.

Darius was uncertain about what to do next, as the last time he had held a woman in his arms, he had kissed her good bye and held her close before telling her he loved her, and then had been forced to watch the life leave her eyes before they closed and she went limp. He blinked away the tears in his eyes, and took a pair of halting steps towards her, before his stride firmed up and he crossed the short distance across the room to place a hand upon her shoulder, squeezing gently. Her hands lashed out with the speed of a striking cobra, and grasped his hand, holding it tight as she cried.

Simply touching her should brought back a flood of memories that caused him to shake slightly, before biting his lip and quashing them in to the back of his mind, unwilling to let them take him over and break him down. He crouched and held her close to him, closer than he meant to and he somehow felt that he could not let her go. He could not let her go, and he could not let her walk to her death, no matter how honorable an end that would be for her. He vowed silently, as he held her close and felt her shake in his arms, holding back his own tears, as she mumbled, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry for everything, I'm sorry," over and over and over.

Neither of them knew how long they stayed like that, together as he held her, and she clung to him heedless of time, as he finally straightened, gently lifting her back to her feet, holding her up, slowly as he half carried and half walked her across the room, sitting her down gently upon the worn and beaten sofa. She had gone completely limp, only her eyes and slow steady breathing gave any indication that she was still alive.

It took Darius a moment to revive the flagging fire, and its warm gently filled the room, warming the entire house as the tongues of fire threw shadows upon the walls. He returned to her side, and gently guided her to her feet, talking quietly, whispering to her, quiet words of comfort - all that he could do, as he struggled to prevent his own hands from shaking as he helped her in to his bed. He took a moment to undo the thongs that held his armor in place before shrugging off his armor as he stared at the Paladin, who looked up at him with pleading eyes. She spoke no words, but her request was clear as she shook slightly beneath the blanket.

He nodded his understanding but said nothing as he dropped his armor at the foot of the bed. The few candles in the rooms threw a shadow that was larger than him against the wall as he undid and dropped both his war belt and shoulder harness, placing both his swords alongside the bed before removing his own boots, and sliding beneath the covers. He lay next to her, as her hand reached out, in the darkness beneath the blanket searching for his.

Her fingers caressed his and he tensed almost uncontrollably, a reflex that he managed to control after a few seconds. He wrapped his fingers around hers, determined not to break away. He could feel her need for a moment of tenderness, a gentle touch she had not felt nor seen in many days had her craving. She turned towards him, and placed her head against his shoulder, as her tears continued to fall in silence, even as he unconsciously pulled her close and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close until she was snug against him.

Every muscle and fibber within him screamed that he should not be here, lying with her in his arms. It was not because she was a traitor to Neverwinter – he had no love for the city, no care for its people since they turned on Fenthwick long ago. It was his ghost from the past, the one that he wished every night could be with him again, instead of… He sighed quietly as he held her close, unwilling to leave because he did not want to hurt her anymore. He knew that beneath the hard exterior that she wore, her heart and soul were shattered by the loss of her lover, and regret for what she had done as the willing leader of the Luskan Forces. It took only a while before her tears subsided, and she fell asleep, still curled up against him, like a kitten seeking rest and sanctuary in the protective warmth of its mother.

He did not stay long, unable to let her take the place, of somebody else that should still be here with him today. He slid out of bed and went in to the living room to stretch out on the sofa. He doubted that she would try to run, and he knew that by now, the people of Neverwinter would know that he held her in protective custody. Moreover, that meant that some fool hotheads, would definitely try something very stupid. If they tried to do anything in his house, he could kill them without reprisal.

He closed his eyes as he slid in to his typical sleep, allowing him to rest and regain his energy but without compromising his alertness to any sound, whether suspicious or otherwise. He slept, and the hours of night passed quietly, without disturbance until the middle of the night, when a series of whimpers broke his sleep, sending him shooting upright, as the red blade glowed ominously in the darkness of the room, the fireplace having dimmed to glowing embers. He stared around the room, his eyes used to the dark as he noted the sound of whimpers and sobs came from his bedroom. He stood, and stretched, working the slightly stiffness from his muscles as his lanky six foot frame did not fit well when forced to stretch out on a sofa that was not as long as he was. He threw another log on to the fire as he sheathed his blade. Without his armor, he slunk in to the room, to find her deep in the throes of a nightmare as her hands clenched, knuckles turning white as her body shook, causing the sheets to shudder back and forth as if possessed.

He sat down quietly next to her on the edge of the bed, he hesitated, wishing that he had someone or something to guide him but he only had his own heart and mind to guide him. His heart told him to hold back, not to let somebody else fill that void. His head told him that there was nothing to be gained from this. He had a choice to make and he hesitated for a moment. He decided that for the moment, he could comfort her, and make the decision later.

He crossed to the far side of the bed, and slid in, retaking the place he had hours earlier, curling himself against her as she continued to shake, and tremble, tormented by something that only she could see and fight against. He was as gentle as he slid an arm around her and pulled her close, whispering gently to her, "Aribeth, its alright, Aribeth," he shook her gently causing her eyes to flash open moments before she rolled, trying to escape his grasp as she screamed.

He almost let go as she screamed the name of her deceased lover, the pure pain and agony that scream echoed was something that Darius could almost taste. In the past he had thought that he understood what she had suffered through but he knew now that his owns pains, were nothing compared to everything that she had suffered. He had to struggle to hold her until her scream ended, and she fell back on to the bed, shuddering uncontrollably as tears ran down her face, "What have I done? What have I done?"

She cried as she buried her face in his shoulder and continued to shed her tears, "How could I have done this?"

He had no way to answer her as he held her close to him and rocked back and forth with her held as tight as he could, his own decision made in a moment, and he had yet to realize that he had even made it, as he held her close to him, unwilling to let her go. In spite of what memories were brought back by him being so close to her, he knew that there was no way he could turn his back upon her. Gradually, her tears dried as her drained body collapsed in on itself, as she feel in to a deep, dreamless sleep, exhausted by the abuse she had heaped upon herself.

The remainder of the night passed in silence, as she slept curled up in his arms. Again, he tried to slip out of bed, but was caught out, as she curled up against him, wrapping her arms around him, cinching them tight, refusing to let, even as she whispered, while still half asleep, "Darius, please… stay with me… I'm scared, I can't do this alone."

He didn't reply as he pulled her closer and held her, himself drifting off to sleep, with her tight against him, his original plan to stay on watch, to be on guard forgotten as he felt something calm him so that he could finally sleep, in peace, without his nightmares and ghosts returning to haunt him as they always did…

The day had dawned bright and early and the pair had risen early as they were both accustomed to doing. It was not intentional but simply out of habit. She woke before him but only a few moments as her stretching woke him. She looked over at him, and nodded to him, "good morning."

He returned the greeting and slid out of bed, stretching out his back and shoulders slightly cramped from the way he had been sleeping. Standing side by side, they stared out, through the window in the front room, on the streets of Blacklake District where the so-called nobility and social elites were wandering the streets, pompous and full of themselves, as if they had something of vital importance to do for the city that they called home.

An hour later, the pair was ready to wander in to the streets, as Aribeth had requested that there were things that she wanted to do, in the first of her last three days of freedom. She wore what clothes she had, simple plain clothes, her weapons and armor taken from her when she surrendered to the Neverwinter Nine at the gates to the castle. Darius glanced at her, critically from head to toe before stepping towards a closet, the only closet in the small house. From within, he pulled a cloak and a set of well worm chain link armor. He hesitated for a moment before pulling a Bastard Sword from the closet along with a pair of short swords, "People will know soon enough that you are not being held in a prison cell, because what's left of the Neverwinter Nine will talk."

"But under protective custody, only the protectors are allowed to bear arms," she replied testily, even as she ran her hands down the length of the sheathed blade, "I would be violating the laws that are keeping me alive."

Darius shrugged in a non committal fashion, "The laws can rot. The administrator," he paused as he cinched his war belt tight around him, "of those laws can also rot in hell." He paused as he hefted a rack of throwing dirks and slung them across his chest, "I'd rather you take a weapon or two, and be able to defend yourself, because this city will devour you alive, or at least try to if you are recognized," he sheathed both the fire and the poison blades, "I will not be enough to stop an angry mob from seeking its justice," he winced, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean,"

"No, No," she reassured him, "I understand what you mean. You are the one who is taking a grave risk by taking this responsibility upon yourself for Lord Nasher."

He intimately understood what she had left unspoken as he nodded, "I do it, for me, and for you," he paused, and almost said his name, but decided against it. He was after all, keeping the promise he made, the day Fennthick was betrayed and murdered. "Not for anyone else."

She nodded her understanding as he turned to stare out the window as she went back in to the bedroom to change in to what she had been given to wear, along with the bastard sword, her preferred blade, and weapon of choice for any combat situation. She emerged a few minutes later, fully dressed and he noted that she was beautiful, even in full armor with a sheathed blade at her side. There was simply this aura around her that he could somehow see, somehow read and understand. It allowed him to see so much more of her than she herself would have possibly liked, and he kept his secret to himself. He wondered if he would ever tell her, if he would get the time to tell her.

She nodded and Darius opened the door, and the two stepped out in the bright shinning sun of a brand new day, her final day free, before she would have to be returned to the Castle, to face fate, with honor at Sunday the following day.

They stepped in to the bright, sun lit streets of the district, and Aribeth stared around, her eyes almost blank. The darkness of the previous night had hidden the extent of the damage that had been inflicted to the city during the short but brutal siege. The damage wrought by enemy catapults made its presence felt in the burned out hulks, and the skeletal remains of numerous buildings along with the faint stench of burning flesh, whether left over from the plague or from the assault was uncertain. The physical loss bordered on the terrifying. The people had soldiered on through the warfare and were now rebuilding, as best as they could. Aribeth shuddered as she looked around the broken remains of the Blacklake. If Blacklake was in such as state, she could only wonder what the rest of the city such as the Beggars Nest had fared underneath the brutal assault of Luskanites and Uthgradt.

She maintained an iron grip upon her emotions, as she refused to shed even a single tear for the very people that had condemned her to pain and suffering that would last the rest of her natural, when they stole her only love from her, and were helped by her former lord. Her sadness turned to fiery anger as her thoughts centered upon the one man who had broken her in a single action. She remembered her personal vow of vengeance against Lord Nasher Alagondar. If she had followed through to the end, there was no doubt in every muscle, nerve and fiber of her being that she would make him suffer eternally for his crimes against her.

She heard Darius behind her, drawing level with her. She turned to face him as he spoke to her, "Aribeth, I know what you think. But you did the right thing, following the course of honor. I know you look around, and a part of you wishes that you had never surrendered. I can feel the hatred and rage coming off you, like a wave, placing a wall around your true feelings," he hesitated, knowing the irony of his own words, "Don't let your dreams, your memories destroy who you are."

She laughed openly at the remark, "There is much that you do not know about me," the laugh light and heart felt, as she broke in to the warm radiant smile that he had seen her wear, even during the trying time of the Wailing Death. The smile faded slightly as she took his hand in hers, "Come with me Darius," she paused, "there is something I want you to see, something I want you to know."

He almost pulled away from her touch as if scalded by fire or by a poison. He did not trust himself to speak as he only nodded, and allowed her too lead the way. She knew the different districts well, as she led him to the district gates. Even with her face masked beneath her borrowed cloak, she could feel the glares and stares of the guards that promised deadly violence, even if they could not see the blade worm upon her back, all but its grip hidden beneath the cloak she wore.

Darius noted the looks that would have caused lesser men to flee. Last night, he had developed the measure of the supposed black patrol, and knew that they were little more than the thugs he had killed in the Peninsula District, only better dressed and better armed than the now long dead rabble. Following her, she led him towards the western quarter of the city, towards the woods near the docks district, "These woods are part of the city?"

She nodded, understanding his hesitation, "They are. The city wall runs part way through the woods. It's actually a part that many of the people have forgotten exists. These woods have been here since my first days in Neverwinter, and while they have grown somewhat since then, it is arguably one of the tamest and most peaceful places in the entire city."

He nodded as she picked up the pace, "So what is in these woods?"

She did not answer as they continued their rapid advance through the city. Within minutes, they had reached the woods, and she led them off its main path, down a side path that had seen little in the way of traffic in a long while, the presence of weeds and creepers had made it almost invisible to the human eye, unless you know where to look. However, she knew. He followed without question, but still kept a firm grip upon the hilt of one sword, cautious of the unexpected.

He noticed that the ground sloped slightly, causing them to crest a small hill that broke through the treetops. Incredibly as Darius scanned the view, he could still see the city walls in the distance, meaning that somehow, they were still within the city itself. Aribeth had wandered towards the lone tree that flourished upon the hilltop. Darius watched as she traced the outline of something in to the tree trunk with her fingers, as she bent and kissed it. He moved slightly, and he was able to make out the shape of a heart carved in to the tree but not the letters carved within it. Nevertheless, he did not need to be up close to know that the initials that would be carved in to the tree trunk, "FM" and "ADT."

She sank beneath the shadowy comfort of its branches and held the trunk of the tree. Darius could see that there were no tears, just a sense of calm and peace radiating from her. He approached quietly, and she nodded, waving to the space beside her, asking him to join her there. He nodded and sank down next to her, waiting for her to break the silence. He knew that there was more to this than just a tree trunk. She stared to speak, staring off in to the distance, where the ground and horizon seemed to merge together, "Long ago, before I became a Paladin of Tyr …"

She spoke, and he leaned back, listening as she poured her life out to him again, her past, the story that few knew, about her past and her life, as the daughter of a ranger, the orc tribe that wiped out her family, of her hate filled carnage driven vengeance. She also told him how the snowstorm had driven her in to the arms some savior that had varied her in to the arms of the llmateri monks had shown her the path and given her part of the training to become a paladin of Tyr. She was trying to leave a good memory of herself, for him.

She continued on describing the early days of her relationship with Fenthwick Moss, and finally, Darius understood the significance of the tree they rested beneath – it was the place where Fenthwick Moss and Aribeth De Tylmarande first made their vows of love and devotion to one another, so long ago. Before everything went wrong from the both of them, but Darius was no fool, as he understood finally what she was doing. In her own way, Aribeth, was saying good bye, to those who cared for her the most, and he had to fight, to hold back his own tears, even as she shed a few of her own.

Aribeth wiped her tears away as she stared across the short gap between the two of them. He returned her gaze, their eyes locked as they both understood, and the unspoken truth that had passed between them the previous night. Neither of them were uncertain of how to broach what passed the night before, they both spoke at once, before they fell silent again, both of them staring at the distant horizon.

Finally, she took a deep breath, "I, just want to say thank you for what you did, when you stayed last night. You didn't have to," she paused unable to finish as Darius took her hand in to both of his, before sliding across the grass to close the gap between them.

One of his hands rose and gently cupped her chin, as he stared in to the sapphire eyes of the half elf, "I did not have to, but I chose to," he hesitated, "What I am about to tell you, he paused, "Long before I answered the call of this city, I had a wife who I lost, during child birth… It was my fault that I lost her – she never wanted children but she gave in to my desire for a son or daughter. I killed her."

It was her turn to sit back and listen, as he explained why he let none past the wall around his heart, why he could never bring himself to love another, less he make a mistake, one of the many he felt that he had made that caused him so much pain, that prevented him from sleeping easy at night. The massacre of his family had been avenged, laying the tormented spirits of his mother, father and sisters to rest. The loss of his wife, he still blamed himself for. Daelan Red Tiger, his body claimed by his tribe to be buried as a deserving warrior. The many others that he could not save, that had died at his hands. He blamed himself.

Aribeth, already leaning against him, looked him straight in the eye, "Darius, you cannot blame yourself for these deaths. You could do nothing to prevent them. All you seem to remember, all of your memories seem to be those of pain, guilt and suffering that you have inflicted or have suffered, let go of your past Darius. You cannot live like that."

He stared at her, and she stared back, neither of them breaking eye contact, the sun still shinning above them but now beginning to set in the western sky, sending trails of orange and red across the sky. Finally, he surrendered to what his heart felt, that he could no longer control. He cupped her face in his hand and guided her, as kissed her gently but firmly. It lasted only a few seconds.

The first kiss was soft and brief but the next was confident and more feverish. She didn't know how they had suddenly kissed, but she felt a thrill that she had not felt in a long time. He was overwhelmed as she was but the kiss awoke something primal, something she had not felt in many long months, since the first outbreak of the Wailing Death. She remembered suddenly, how her first real look at him had made him seem almost angelic. Maybe he was an angel, an angel in devils clothing with an equally horrifying temper – but a warrior angel none the less.

He broke away suddenly, "I, I can't do this."

"Don't let your memories kill you," she said softly, "I know you are still capable of love. It's not too late."

"It's too late. My memories and ghosts killed the part of me capable of love a long time ago. They don't get anyone but those who cross me killed."

"Perhaps, but a good memory could be what saves your life. She ran a hand down the side of his face, only to have him pull away, before he whispered quietly, "I'm not somebody that you want to get involved with. I'm not somebody that anyone should get involved with."

"I know that you have done a great deal of good."

"You told me once, Aribeth, you told me once long ago, that if you ever needed anyone, that you would want it to be me."

"I told you that, and I meant it when I said it in Port Llast. You are the only one that I can turn to now that… Fenthwick," she shook her head, "There is nobody but you left in my life that I can trust!"

He had thought that he understood her purpose of bringing him out here, but now he realized that there was something else, that she wanted a final something from him. But the trouble was that, he was absolutely unsure what exactly she wanted. Fed up of games and runabouts, "Aribeth, what do you want from me? I know you well enough to know that there is something," he took a deep breathe, "Please, tell me."

She hung her head, "You know me as my love did," she reward him with a small smile, "and you can read me almost as well as he could. You are right. I do want something from you," she took a deep breathe, "I know that I will die for my crimes. But I don't want to face Nasher's hang man…. I want, I want… you…"

Darius could only stare at her in disbelief, "You want me to…"

She nodded, "I would prefer your blade, to the hangman's rope."


	3. Chapter 3 - The End

**Chapter 3: The End.**

The night had passed quietly between the two of them, as Darius digested what Aribeth wanted him to do. He had slept with her in his arms again, but she lay awake for most of the night. She could feel him, unwilling and refusing to let go of her, even in his sleep as he moved, twitched and jerked around in his sleep, no doubt fighting some enemy, some thing that she could do nothing against. More than once, his sleep was shattered as his nightmares became far too vivid for him to suffer through.

However, when he bolted upright, his nightmare racked sleep shattered by something that only he could experience and feel. As sudden as he had bolted up was the sudden whip like movement of his sword arm, flying to his hip grasping for the hilt of a blade as sweat rolled down his face, hands grasping and scratching, clawing for a weapon, almost drawing blood as his nails cut through his clothes. He continued to shake even as Aribeth closed her hand over his, causing his finger to stop their destructive action, but they continued to tremble until her fingers were intertwined with his, "Darius? Are you alright?"

He stayed silent for a few moments as he took several breaths as she realized that he had been holding his breath throughout his minute long scramble for any weapon. She held him, as he held her the previous night, their roles reversed as she comforted him. She knew that she had asked a favor that she would never be able to repay. Even as they lay against each other, he could no longer hold himself back as he finally broke his silence, speaking out aloud in to the darkness of the room, where he could not see her face, and she could not see his, "Aribeth, I can't do this, I can't do this… you are all that I have. I can't let go, you, are the only friend that I have left."

"You have to let go – if you want to live, you have to let go. There can't be any future, or any hopes for something between us," she paused, "My time is running out, I have less than a day before….before it…happens."

His tears were silent, and invisible without any light to show them, but his voice could not hide the pain that had already punched through him, "I'm not sure if I can actually go through with this. I know that it is the last request that you will ever make. I, I…" he stopped, unsure if there was anyway for him to express what he felt on the inside, to put in to words the raw wounded emotions that he felt.

"Darius, I need to know, that you will, do, that you will be able to do what I have asked you because we can either do this when the time comes, or we can hurry along this course of events because there is no escaping the fate that is in store for me… I have to pay the ultimate price for my crimes. And I will pay it."

He nodded understanding that she was somehow trying to lessen the burden that she had placed upon him, but he was undecided as to how he could accept the offer, to allow him, the opportunity to end his own pain suffering, earlier, perhaps making it easier for him to close this chapter, and to somehow move on, and start living his life again.

He said nothing, but his silence was enough as she whispered to him, "Its just past dawn," she said nothing more as she released her hold upon him, not saying anything as she slid from the bed and proceeded to get dressed, rapidly pulling on the armor that he had given her. It was the first time that she noticed the armor was similar to her old battle armor, she hefted the Bastard Sword for only a moment, before strapping it on, and then, removing the sword and placing it against the wall. She turned and stared at him for just a moment, "No weapons," before turning away, pulling the cloak's hood up and about her face, once again to blend in to the city.

He looked at her, standing before him, and could barely speak, but somehow, managed to choke out a few words, "I can't do this, Aribeth and… I just cannot. I'm scared to let go of the only thing that has any meaning to me." He protest was weak and subdued. He would not fight against her… it was her path, her choice and her destiny that she would have to walk on her own. She was the one to make the choices, and all he could do was follow her.

He did not know who needed whom more, whether she needed him to support her so that she would do the right thing. On the other hand, was it a case of him being unable to let her go, and that she was trying to help him do just that. He was uncertain whether to hate her for trying to lessen the difficulty of what he had to do. She stood, silent, and the silence was a wave of accusation that cut at him, accusing him of being unable to grant the wish, of a dying friend.

She stood to the side as he rose from bed and began to prepare. With the usual armor and weapons, he made a single adjustment, sliding a specific short dagger in to place beneath his forearm gauntlet. The dagger was identical to any normal dagger except that the blade was hollowed out metal that was filled with a paralytic poison - a swift and merciful end.

Taking a few more minutes he tried to calm himself, to focus upon the task at hand, where he would have to end his the life of his last friend… once she was gone, he would only have one task and duty to perform, before all ties to him and Neverwinter would forever be severed. He held himself in check, determined not to make her feel any more guilt for what she had asked and for what he would do, an act of kindness and mercy. Darius took only moments to finalize his preparations before nodding to Aribeth.

From the streets of Blacklake, the sun was visible, having just crept about the horizon, throwing blood red streaks across the sky. A red sky, a potent symbol for those who believed in such things that murder would occur this day. A murder that was preventable, if a different course of action had been followed long ago.

Darius did not lead, but hung back, as Aribeth walked, uncertain, a slight tremble in her frame. She knew that she was walking to her doom. A peace that she had never had in life, she had earned in her final days before the vengeful retribution of the broken shattered populace of Neverwinter would fall upon her. That had always gnawed at the back of her mind as she knew what awaited her but she had soldiered on nonetheless.

The streets were fairly deserted, and they both knew why. The people were gathering their strength and fury to unleash upon Aribeth who had a in the final count, a day. Traitors are executed at dusk, always, no matter what their crimes. With the city building its own stores of fury, their passage was rapid through the half-rebuilt Blacklake, and in to the shattered Core. While the Core had been rapidly repaired, there were still many signs of the recent bloodbath, evident in the still unrepaired and broken hulks that littered the streets.

The reached the raise plateau that housed the main gates of the castle, only to stop and stare, Darius unable to believe what had been set up beneath the Tree from which the innocent Fenthwick had been hung. There was no scaffold, there was no hangman's noose, but a pyre of wood and oil built up around a stake. Aribeth's own words from long before shot to the forefront of her consciousness, "… guilty of high treason the only punishment is death by burning at the stake…"

The castle gates were as always closed but the king of the bureaucrats, Mulland the Administrator still stood proud in his robes and badges. He was a symbol of pomp and ceremony that meant little to fighters and killers, "None shall pass within to see Lord Nasher unless you have an appointment," it was a statement of flat truth, designed to deny passage to the common folk.

Darius dropped the hood of his cloak, "Open those gates Mulland," he snapped, his anger barely restrained, "My business is Nasher."

Mulland stuttered for a moment before waving to the guards who stood at the top of the parapet overhead with bows drawn and arrows strung. Two of the three disappeared as the mighty steel portcullis rose and the elegant hand carved wooden doors parted, even as Mulland pointed a finger at Darius, "You may proceed but your companion shall wait here."

Darius clenched his teeth before grinding out the words, "My business with Lord Nasher concerns my companion." Mulland was no fighter, one of the men who had cowered within the castle walls when the Luskans had breached the city's outer walls. Cowardice had never sat well with Darius, especially when it concerned men who were nothing more than bootlickers, and he hated the boots of the lying bastard lord of Neverwinter. The hangman's noose, the hangman's noose…. Never had Nasher ever mentioned that she would burn at the stake as Desther had.

Mulland broke in to a pile of quivering sweat as Darius pushed past him, with Aribeth close behind him. The corridors of the castle reflected the wealth and splendor that Nasher commanded as the Lord of the City, but this wealth was his own private fortune that he spent to enrich his own lifestyle, doing very little, it seemed, for those who live beyond the walls of the castle itself.

Early as it was, Darius knew that Nasher would be awake, and ready to meet him and Aribeth, simply because Darius was not going to leave him any choice. If they had to meet in Nasher's bedchambers, then so be it. However, they were led to the Throne Room. Darius kept an icy glare of hatred welded to his face, hiding the pain he carried with in. he had yet to do the deed, and it was already killing him, slowly but surely.

Every muscle, every fiber within him, resisted every step towards the inevitable, even as he forced himself to take every step, that brought him closer to being like his nickname, the one shouted and praised by those supposedly innocent people. First, he would have it out with Nasher, and in a way, twist the blade in to Nasher, and keep it turning for a very long time. He slowed to match Aribeth's, who's pace had slowed, no doubt fear playing its part, as well as terror, as to what Nasher had in store for her when the sun set. They both knew that to face death on the battlefield was kinder than to die any other death. At least death in battle meant a swift one, whether by blade, arrow or spell. When you know the hour of your death and can count the minutes and seconds until it arrives, fear is immediate, but turns to terror as the moment draws closer.

Darius wrapped his hand and around hers, and when she clenched his back, he almost winced from the fear-induced strength, but held himself in check. She needed him now more than ever before. Almost ironic considering that he did not want to be here. He understood but did not have to like it and he did not like it because it was one man's mistake that was at the root of all the evil to take place.

As if he had never left, the same two members of the Neverwinter Nine were still standing guard. Both continued to stare straight ahead as if watching a scene that nobody else could see. He nodded slightly at them, and one of them, standing to the right of the door, unlocked the door and nodded to Darius, "Lord Nasher awaits within."

Aribeth trembled at those words, but the door had swung inwards, granting them entry in to the inner most sanctum, for the very last time. They stopped about eight feet from Nasher's throne, where he sat back, his face now older than ever, the wrinkles giving his face the appearance of weathered, dry parchment, his formerly salt and pepper hair now almost pure white. He sat there, still dressed in his armor, with his precious sword still riding upon his hip. Darius had his doubts as to whether the formerly plague ridden lord could actually wield the blade with any of his former skill or ability. Personally, Darius was itching to find out the answer to that question, but he knew that he still had the most distasteful act of his entire life to commit, even as Nasher spoke to him, "I see that you have brought the prisoner back earlier than expected."

Darius checked himself again, mentally, "I have brought the Lady Aribeth De Tylmarande to Castle Nevar at her request."

Nasher turned his attention to her, "So, you decided to return early," he considered it for only a moment before asking the question that burned at the forefront of his mind, "Why?"

Aribeth trembled as fear ripped through her but not through her voice, "To surrender myself to what fate has holds in store for me, would either be to surrender myself tonight, or to surrender myself now, what difference does it make, in the final accounting for my crimes?"

He sighed, "I never wanted it to come to this," he paused, shaking his head, even as his own voice quivered slightly, "I never meant for any of this to happen. I sent you away from Neverwinter, to do your duty as a Paladin of Tyr, and also to give you the opportunity to take your revenge against those who had taken what mattered most to you away from you. Why did you forsake Tyr?"

She looked as if she had been slapped across the face, "I never forsake Tyr, He abandoned me, every night in my dreams, I dreamt of him turning his back upon me. You are no better! You claim to have given me the opportunity for honorable vengeance? You did nothing but send me away, with no explanation, no words of comfort, of support, you left me with nothing. You took everything that meant anything away from me!" Her eyes blazed with anger, "You have done nothing but dishonor me! My name! My family!" her tears began to fall as her arm lanced out like an arrow towards Darius, "When there were no others who could possibly give a damn or care about me, you were the one who could not even face me in a prison cell. The savior of your city cares more for me! He has shown me more kindness than you!"

Darius stormed forward now, unable to restrain himself any longer, "But you, you decrepit pompous, lying piece of shit!" Around him, blades were drawn, "We both saw what stands in the Castle Courtyard. You have no honor left, no understanding of what that word means! She would do the honorable thing, but you cannot even keep your word! That is not a hangman's noose in the Courtyard"

The four members of the Neverwinter Nine closed in, circling just beyond the reach of Darius's blades, when Aribeth stepped forward, turning her back upon Lord Nasher, to stare Darius directly in the eyes, "Darius, please, don't. I have asked you for so much already, but I, I must ask for one final thing from you now."

Her voice was calm, but he could hear the break in her voice that was only matched by her already broken heart, and he could do nothing but ask her, "One final wish?"

She held his forearms as her gaze held his, "You let Wyvern live. You let the man who killed your family live. Now I ask you to do the same, for this," she paused, drawing a breath, "this man. To let him live, for his death would do nothing for me, and would only destroy your reputation and trap you in the endless cycle of blood and hatred that you escaped from not long before. Do not fall back to that level. I ask you: - Please, let him live."

He bowed his head, breaking away from the stare of her grief filled eyes, "As you wish, Aribeth. I give you my word," he had to choke out the words, "until my death, by the sword," he whispered, "Nasher Alagondar will not die by my hand, or any hand that I can control, hire or command," his gaze realigned with hers, "This, I promise you."

She nods her understanding as she turned slightly to stare out the window, beyond the pair of men who stood with their blades drawn, "It is beautiful, isn't it?"

Darius shuddered. Nasher watched but he knew that something was gnawing at Nasher's instincts. Darius stepped closer to her, pulling her close, "Much like the dawn of another day not so long ago, when an innocent was sacrificed to appease a bloodthirsty mob."

She nodded, "I have seen that day amongst my many different nightmares but I am ready to face the future now."

"Is, is it time?"

She turned to face him, as Nasher continued to watch the pair. Something was going to happen, his instincts from his adventuring days made that much clear. What that something was, he had no idea even as Aribeth spoke again, "You know it is."

"I'm scared, Aribeth. Me the hero, the warrior, the savior, and I can't even grant a friend," he shook his head, "her wish…"

"Just because you're scared, it does not make you any less of man or of a hero to this city and its people," she chided him softly as she cupped his cheek in her hand, "You are more of a hero than anyone in this city will ever know."

"I don't care for the people or this city. I can't… my heart won't listen to my head and let me…" he nodded, "I promised you… and," he shook for a moment, "I won't break my promise, he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, as calm forced its way through him. His eyes flashed open speaking, "Ready?"

She nodded once as he palmed the blade. The pair shared one final embrace, and he gave her a tender kiss upon the forehead to say farewell, "If there is a heaven, an afterlife,"

She kissed him gently on the cheek, "There is a heaven and there is an afterlife. I know that. When your time comes, Fenthwick and I will await you, in Tyr's Kingdom."

He nodded as his tears fell, cutting lines in to his face, "I will meet you both there." He took a final breathe that was hard for him to draw as she nodded to him, closing her eyes, "Farewell, my friend."

She simply closed her eyes and stood her ground, not moving, not a single tense muscle in her body as the palmed blade in his hand spun. With her arms around his shoulder, it was easy to find the point. The blade struck, cutting through the cloth, skin, flesh, sliding between the ribs, lunging in to her heart. The twist of the wrist broke the embedded blade and the poison entered her blood. There was the slightest of gasps, as her eyes widened ever so slightly, "Fenthwick?" she whispered, "I'm…" she smiled, "…home."

He cradled her lifeless body. He kissed her gently upon the forehead one final time, as pain, grief, guilt and anger crashed over him like a tidal wave. He felt his own heart break and shatter within him, the pieces of his heart piercing in to his lungs as he found in harder and harder to breathe as lowered her to the floor, and drew the broken bladed dagger from her body. He held it in his hand as Nasher watched it all in shock.

Rising, Darius faced the Lord of Neverwinter and hurled the broken dagger. Its jagged broken edge slammed in to the throne as he channeled his pain, every iota of it in to rage, in to blunt words of the utmost contempt and disrespect, "That," he growled, pointing at the still vibrating dagger, "is all the remains of what was once a true Paladin of Tyr." He took a breath, "You sentenced her lover to death. You betrayed her. She punished your betrayal with treason. She was a Paladin of Tyr. She knew honor and had the courage to take responsibility for her actions and follow the course or honor. May that blade serve as reminder and a lesson to you Nasher. You and your city…" he shook his head, and decided that since he was leaving the city far behind, he need not spare anyone's feelings, especially the supposed Lord of Neverwinter, "If I had known this was how it would end, I would have helped her burn Neverwinter and danced upon the ashes!"

He scooped up Ariberth in his arms, "Open that door," he growled, "I will not ask again."

Nasher stood his ground jaw clenched with his hands clenched in complete anger as he snarled at Darius, "Do you know what you have done by taking justice in to your own hands?" Lord Nasher drew his blade and snarled across the room, his voice echoing across the room, "You bastard! You cannot begin to understand what you have done! The Lord's Alliance will have my head for this!"

"Well, at least justice will be returned in some fashion," he paused as he adjusted his hold upon her, freeing his sword arm, "For the last time, open the damn door!"

Nasher seethed in anger, his blade rising as he measured the distance between him and prepared to pounce. Darius waited, wondering if Nasher would really strike him in the back. The Neverwinter Nine, formed up, ostensibly to protect Nasher if Darius were to attack. But they were more interested in keeping Nasher from attacking and getting them all killed.

Nasher could do nothing but stand his ground as Darius left, carrying the half elf Lady Aribeth De Tylmarande, Paladin of Tyr, Now a lifeless body, the last of thousands who had died, and who would have to be laid to rest, with only one to attend her funeral.

Darius knew what he had done, knew that he done the right thing, he knew that he had spared her, a far worse death, at the hands of the same bloodthirsty mob that devoured an innocent man named Fenthwick Moss. He knew that he would have to do the same for Aribeth as had been done for Fenthwick. But this time, he would have to do it alone.

For Darius, only one final duty remained, that bound him to this city, a task that would take time but he vowed that Fenthwick and Aribeth would be granted the peace in death that they had never had the opportunity to enjoy or treasure in life.

He promised, silently, that he would move Fenthwick's coffin, and make sure both of them were buried at the base of tree upon a hill in the forgotten woods of Neverwinter. That tree engraved with both their initials would be the perfect tombstone for his friends, united at last in death.

"May they know only peace and happiness in Tyr's Kingdom."


End file.
